


Drabble Day Drabbles

by kinky_kneazle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble Collection, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-25
Updated: 2011-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:35:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinky_kneazle/pseuds/kinky_kneazle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unrelated drabbles from hd_writer's Drabble Days - will be added to as there are more drabble days.  Anything too long has been posted separately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drabble Day Drabbles

**Watching** (Regulus/Remus - PG-13ish)

 

Regulus had been watching Remus forever, it seemed. Certainly since the first day he'd arrived at Hogwarts. After he begged the hat to put him in Slytherin, he'd chosen a spot where he could see his older brother and glare. And there, beside Sirius, was a pale, quiet boy who nevertheless laughed along with the others when James sent a pointed look at the hook-nosed boy on the Slytherin table.

Regulus had promised to watch Sirius for his mother, but it hadn't taken too long before he was watching Remus instead. It took a few years to realise why he watched, and by that time Remus had more unexplained scars on his face and still more pain in his eyes. But he'd grown taller and put on muscle and had a gentle smile that was like nothing Regulus had ever known before.

So, he watched. Despite Severus next to him, scowling in their direction every five minutes. Despite every mocking smirk his disowned brother sent his way, Regulus continued to watch.

And one day, Remus looked back. And one night, Remus found him in a dark alcove and pulled him close and kissed him. And one full moon, Regulus followed his brother's brainless gang of Marauders and discovered that Remus was so much more than he'd known.

All that more was worse – a diseased and mindless monster howling to the moon, and it left Regulus feeling sick and angry. The next morning Remus lay in a hospital bed and the constant new scars were suddenly, horrifically, explained. Regulus never said good bye.

When Regulus was finally of age he knelt at his Master's feet, just as his mother ordered.

"Look into my eyes," the Dark Lord commanded.

It was his hatred towards that beast that Regulus allowed the Dark Lord to see.

When Regulus finally grew up, it was his love towards the man that he held close as death took him.

 

 **Imperfect** (Sirius/Severus)

It was the man's imperfections that drew the eye. At school Sirius had pointed them out. Snivellus, after the nose. Greasy Git for his hair. They were the things that people noticed, and so Sirius had made fun of them, looking for a reaction.

His imperfections still drew Sirius' eye, but in a different way. That gangliness was now a long, lean figure. Still the wrong side of skinny, Sirius wanted to feel the strength in those wiry muscles wrapped around him. His nose was as hooked as ever, but it suited him. Made him imposing. Intimidating. Left Sirius wanting to feel it pressed against his throat, breathing in his scent.

Then there was his personality which was clearly far from perfect, but every scowl, every insult, hit Sirius' skin like a sharp caress that left him aching for more. He bit back, looking for reaction, and shuddered every time he succeeded.

Yes, it was the imperfections that made Severus Snape so perfect. Now Sirius just needed to convince him of that.

 

 **Standing Still** (Severus/Harry, suggested Harry/Teddy)

The whirl was distracting, even now. All Harry had ever wanted was a quiet life, somewhere he could be just Harry, but it never happened. There were the people, the fans, the demands on his time. The memories, the magic in him that ached to lash out at every annoyance. The feeling that there were a thousand voices in his head, screaming his name. There had never been a moment of peace.

Until Severus. Severus had helped him stand still. With Severus' hand on his back he could smile as required. Talk and nod when he was supposed to and laugh at the right moment. Severus quieted the screams and brought peace to Harry. Severus allowed him to keep control.

Then Severus was gone again.

Not gone.

Severus became yet another voice screaming in his head. And Harry was in a small room, so much like Dudley's second bedroom, right down to the hole in the door to push the food through.

Even here, alone in the small space, they didn't leave him. There was nowhere quiet to stand.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up into the eyes of his godson. "Teddy?"

Teddy touched his arm, and suddenly he was standing still.

 

 **Getting Ready** Teddy/Louis

Louis Weasley took stock of himself in the mirror. He was on his way to Christmas lunch and Gran's and it was time to get dressed.

He didn't want to cover his body. His pale skin was marred with bruises and marks, and he remembered getting every one.

He slipped his fingers onto his hips, trying to place them on the marks left by Teddy's larger hands. He remembered the way those hands had pulled him down onto the hard cock, the way Teddy's hips had thrust up to meet him.

He traced a trail of love bites on his chest that were the shape of Teddy's mouth. He'd arched under the pain, begging for more.

He'd told Teddy that he wanted to be fucked so hard he'd still feel it when he sat down to Christmas lunch. He moved his hand to the cock that had grown hard at his reminiscing and felt the delicious ache in his arse as it clenched. Yes, every time he shifted today he would feel it, and he would smirk at Teddy so that Teddy knew he felt it.

He pulled his clothes on, trousers covering the finger marks, shirt covering the bruises on his chest. It pained him to cover them, an entirely different pain to the pain he'd felt getting them. That pain had been welcome. Pleasurable. This pain ... was not.

He looked at the teeth marks etched deep in his neck. They could stay.

 **Palindrome** Lysander/Al/Lorcan

Lily Potter had loved Lysander Scamander since her first year at Hogwarts. Now that she was older, and jaded, she saw it for the cliché it was: younger sister in love with her brother's best friend. Or one of his best friend's at any rate.

Of course Lily had fancied herself in love with the other best friend as well, when she first met him. Lorcan and Lysander Scamander. Both blond and blue-eyed and the sort of good-looking that made girls giggle behind their hands and scribble their initials on scraps of parchment. Lily had done it as well: LP4LS, and she didn't care which L in the LS was the one to kiss her.

She'd watched them walk around with Al, one on either side, like they were one of those words that reads the same backwards as it does forwards. All through Hogwarts they were the same, one dark-haired boy between two blonds, huddled together in class, at meals, in the library.

Somewhere along the line she'd decided it was Lysander she loved. He was the one who smiled at her apologetically as the three of them walked away. He was the one who occasionally helped with homework, or thought to save her a spot at the table when she slept in. She squeezed 'ysander' next to all the 'L's on her books and decided she'd have him when she was old enough. It was cliché, after all: boy in love with his best friend's little sister.

Then she pushed open a door without knocking. The scene was so familiar – a dark-haired boy between two blonds – but she'd never seen them like this before. When the twins wore only identical expressions of pleasure, she couldn't tell them apart. But one was on his back, legs in the air. The other knelt behind Al, thrusting his hips. Al in the middle, the vowel that held them together and made them a word. A word that read the same front and back.

Lily slipped out as quietly as she'd entered. She scribbled out every LysanderS on her books. It was time to find a new word.

 

 **The Stocking Was Hung** Snape Solo

Severus stared at the stocking the Headmaster had insisted on hanging on the mantelpiece. The bloody thing was red felt lined with white fur and even had an elaborate 'S' embroidered on the front. He'd told Headmaster Dumbledore that no one was going to give him anything, so it was a waste of time. He rather suspected the Headmaster himself planned to leave something in it, but he'd warded the rooms so fully that even Albus Dumbledore couldn't get through. He may be a first year Professor, and a former Death Eater, but even he had the right to a little privacy.

Still, it was a beautiful piece of workmanship. Severus remembered the stockings from his childhood. On one occasion, when his father had destroyed the decorations on Christmas Eve, his mother had transfigured an old sock of his into something resembling a red colour and hung that up. He fingered the white fur of the stocking while he remembered how very red he'd blushed when he'd realised which sock his mother had picked up. It was an old one, too threadbare to be worn anymore, but was perfect for masturbation. He always waved a quick cleaning charm afterwards, but it he'd still been mortified to see it hanging on the fireplace, half-filled with quills and chocolates.

The sock had been scratchy, but the fur lining the Christmas stocking was soft and smooth. Severus put the thought from his mind, even as his cock began to fill with blood. He walked away and poured himself a glass of brandy and ignored those memories of being a teen with just a fantasy and his hand. Of course, at twenty he still just had a fantasy and his hand. And a fur-lined stocking.

He removed the stocking from mantel and carried it to his bedroom. Perhaps he would thank the Headmaster after all.

 

 **Love Letters** Ambiguous Pairing

The Shercats sing me to sleep at night. It's sweet that they wish to cheer me. But, as you remember, the Shercats can read our emotions, so they sing of the longing I feel for you until it wraps around my heart and I can barely breathe.

As their song sends me to my memories I try to imagine you are lying next to me, your hands in my hair and your thigh pressed between mine, never minding that I wake you as I move against it.

Have I told you how much I love your hands? My friends tell me that herbology gives you strong muscles and a tan. I know what they don't. Your time in the garden has given you strong hands with scars and calluses that can hold me gently or send me soaring. I want them to meld with me until we become one, a joined creature that will one day turn up in some magical journal. Or the Quibbler maybe.

I know you're doing Great Things over there in the Amazon. Finding new plants that will change the way we create potions, but I miss you.

Come home to me soon.

 

 **Love Letters Part 2: Longing** Ambiguous Pairing

Your letter reached me yesterday. I don't know how you found a toucan, but at least he found me, even as we hacked plants away to make a path through the forest.

We're camped here now, and I have time to write to you and send your feathered friend on his flight back to you.

I'm glad the Shercats sing you to sleep. We have the calls of monkeys over our heads to keep us awake. But even without Shercats, I still long for you.

My dreams fill with images of us tangled together. Is it wrong for me to share those dreams? Perhaps, but I want to anyway. I want to share with you the images I have of your pale body held close to mine, moving over me, taking me inside. The sounds of pleasure spilling from our throats and mingling in the air and holding us in their embrace, as tight as devil's snare.

After these dreams I wake in my tent, sticky and alone. I should be embarrassed that the orgasm has ripped through me as I lay untouched as if I'm still a teenage boy, but I know thoughts of you always bring out the most intense emotions in me.

Perhaps I should wish the dreams away; they make me ache to have you back in my bed and the longing feels like more than I can bear. But the dreams remind me of how I feel with you, how I belong in your arms and you in mine.

They remind me we'll be back together soon.

 

 **Eavesdropping** Draco/Albus

"What the fuck are you doing with my best friend?"

Albus stopped outside the Manor library at the sound of Scorpius' voice.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I heard you last night, Father. I was standing right outside this room and I – Merlin, it makes me sick just thinking about it."

"I don't know what you think you heard, Scorpius, but I assure you it did not involve your best friend."

Albus was sure of that as well. If anything interesting had happened with Scorpius' incredibly sexy father he definitely would have remembered.

"I'm an adult now. I know the sound of an orgasm when I hear it. And that was definitely Albus' name you yelled. What did you do? Force him on his knees to suck you off?"

"Scorpius." Mr Malfoy's voice sounded incredibly weary. "Albus wasn't here. I may have had an inappropriate fantasy and clearly I shouldn't have been masturbating in the library, but I have done nothing with your best friend. Please don't speak of this again."

"But-"

"Get out, Scorpius!"

Albus quickly disillusioned himself and watched Scorpius storm past him. He slipped into the library before the door closed and stood observing Draco Malfoy for a long moment. His elbows were on his knees and his head in his hands as he took shaky breaths.

"Mr Malfoy?" Albus said, dropping the spell. "I couldn't help but overhear..."

"Albus?"

"Could we make your fantasy real?"

 

 **Young Severus** Severus/Harry

Harry was somehow unsurprised when he opened the door at Grimmauld Place two weeks after the final battle to see Severus Snape standing there. That this Severus Snape was his age, or perhaps a bit younger, was startling, but no more unusual than other things he'd seen since he joined the Wizarding World.

He hesitated over saying hello. Did the man – boy – remember being a Professor? Would he think that Harry was James?

Severus just stepped forward, forcing Harry to step aside and let him in.

"Potter," he said as he walked past. Then he walked up the stairs to his old room in Headquarters and that was that.

They moved around each other carefully, neither mentioning Voldemort, or suddenly being twenty years younger or the fact that in Harry's borrowed jeans and a face not lined from years of scowling Severus Snape bordered on the desirable. Instead they ate a breakfast prepared by Kreacher and left each other alone each day to potions and thoughts and endless letters to reply to. A month of this dance, and Harry didn't think he'd referred to Snape by name at all.

Still, each morning their fingers brushed over marmalade and over time there were shared gripes over the Daily Prophet's definition of reporting and even shared grins when one or the other came out with a particularly clever quip.

Then his Hogwart's letter arrived inviting him to an eighth year, and there was one addressed to Severus Snape as well. He pushed open Severus' door to find him sprawled on the bed and gazing out the window over the square. He looked relaxed and Harry had to look to that nose to believe it was really the Potion's Professor who had scared him for so long.

"The school sent a letter."

Snape didn't reply so Harry flopped onto the bed beside him, trying to see what was so interesting in the square. He handed the letter across and watched as Snape opened it.

"I don't want to go back." The words were so low that Harry barely heard them.

"Me neither," he managed to reply.

"So we can stay here?" Snape asked.

"Yes."

As he watched a small child throw a ball onto the street, Harry felt a leg creep over his own until it pinned him to the bed, however lightly. He decided not to comment on it.

"Will you join me for lunch, Severus?" was all he asked as he tried to hide his smile.

 

 **Out of Hell** Draco/Harry

Harry had never told a soul about sixth year, and sneaking in to the infirmary to make sure he hadn't killed Draco. Ron and Hermione didn't know that while his relationship with Ginny was there for everyone to see, his antagonism to Draco had changed to friendship and was building to something else.

The frantic kisses late at night were a secret, and the fact that they had rutted against each other on the Astronomy Tower until they came with gasping cries was something he intended to take to his grave. After all, the next night Draco was holding Albus Dumbledore at wand point. The next night he had let Death Eaters into the school and run away with the Dumbledore's murderer protecting his back.

Even as his heart was breaking Harry knew he couldn't stay with Ginny. He ended it and dragged Ron and Hermione into the wilderness and in the dark of night, when he touched himself he had to bite his lip to stop from calling out Draco's name.

It changed in the Room of Requirement. He hadn't thought to see Draco at all during the battle; hadn't decided to forgive him despite Draco saving them at the Manor. But his decision was made when he saw the flames fill the room and leave Draco stranded in their midst, an angel standing in the middle of hell.

He swooped down, praying for speed. Praying for strength.

"I've got you," he said, as Draco's arms wrapped around him.

Flames of hell licked at their backs but it felt like heaven when he heard a whisper in his ear. "Yours, Harry. Won't let go."

 

 **Life Drawing** Harry/Draco

Dean Thomas couldn't believe how lucky he was. The two hottest guys from his year at Hogwarts and they'd agreed to pose for him. Together! While he knew that Harry would be happy to pose, he didn't think Malfoy would agree and he never imagined they'd agree to come in at the same time.

At first he thought Malfoy didn't know what life drawing was, but even after Dean explained the nudity Malfoy just calmly asked what time.

It was a bit of a dream come true. Even without their antagonistic history and the knowledge that they were on different sides of war, they were still a study in contrasts. Harry was tanned and had muscled up since he joined the Canons. Malfoy was pale and a touch too lean, apparently something that came with potions work. And then there was the straight, blond hair compared to Harry's messy, black mop.

Harry arrived first and chatted easily as he began to strip off, obviously completely comfortable in his own skin. Draco arrived soon afterwards as Harry was unbuttoning his jeans. Dean was surprised at how civil they were to each other. Harry gave a half smile, Draco a nod as he began stripping his robes.

"How do you want us?" Harry asked as he kicked his boxers off his foot.

"However you're comfortable to start with," he said, fully expecting to have to pose them somehow to even get them in each other's personal space.

He watched them look at each other. Draco raised an eyebrow in that way he'd perfected in third year. It was matched with a half-smile, as if he was asking something. Harry responded with a slight nod.

Then, to Dean's amazement, Harry stepped into Draco's arms and they settled onto the ground. They eased into each other, moulding their bodies with obvious familiarity. Harry's hand was in Draco's hair; Draco held Harry close as he tilted his head so they could kiss.

"You could sketch us, Thomas," Draco said, drawing breath. "Even we can't kiss forever."

Dean grabbed his sketchbook and bent to capture the moment.

 

 **Love The One You're With** Harry/Draco

Harry sat at the bar on Christmas Eve and wished he was at home. Christmas was a time for loved ones. For family. But Ginny had taken that away from him, so he was at the Leaky drinking himself into oblivion.

He tossed back another whisky and silently cursed himself. He still loved her, of course he did, but long hours at work had driven a wedge between them. When his partner left his wife and they started spending nights drinking hard to help him forget, Ginny decided she'd had enough.

Just as he was thinking of his partner, Draco dropped to the stool beside him.

"Tom told me you were down here, Potter."

"Ginny kicked me out."

Harry tapped his glass on the bar but Draco put his hand over the glass before Tom could give him a refill.

"You've had enough, Harry. Let's go upstairs so you can sleep it off."

"I drank with you when Astoria left you."

"Maybe you shouldn't have." Draco tugged his hand and was there with an arm around his waist as he swayed unsteadily. They made their way up the stairs, crashing into walls with startling regularity and Harry drank the sobriety potion Draco forced into his hand before he collapsed into sleep.

The next morning he woke to warmth at his back and an arm around his waist and for a moment he thought it was Ginny. Then the arm pulled him closer and it was a hard chest at his back.

"Draco?"

"Harry." The arm pulled back but Harry grabbed it and held his partner close. "What am I going to do with you?" was murmured into his hair.

Harry turned at that question and met Draco's eyes. It was possible that he'd ended up with the one he loved at Christmas after all.

He pressed a light kiss to Draco's lips. "Let's go back to sleep."

 

 **Going Mad** Teddy/Draco

Draco told himself that the young man he'd just hired as his assistant was family. A cousin for Merlin's sake. It didn't seem to help his peace of mind.

When his mother came to him and asked a favour his yes had been automatic. That it was a job for his aunt's grandson, little Teddy Lupin, only made him happier he could help. Malfoys looked after their family; it was taught at his father's knee. That it was a black cousin meant little to Draco's honour.

Now he wished to take it all back, or at least take back the part where he'd said the boy could wear whatever, since they didn't work in the public eye.

He spent every morning in his lab preparing ingredients and making guesses at what Teddy would look like when he finally ambled in. Hair, nose, eyes, height – these were all subject to change. What never changed was the crooked half-smile he gave as he walked in, or the shapely arse that he seemed to flaunt whenever Draco looked in his direction.

To make it worse, Lupin chose the sorts of horrible clothes that Draco's son wore. On Scorpius the torn jeans and tight t-shirts left his eye twitching in rage. On Teddy the same clothes left his cock swelling in lust.

Draco heard footsteps on the stairs and studiously kept his eyes on the mandrake he was carefully slicing.

"Good morning, Draco," the warm voice drifted across the room.

Draco looked up automatically and almost cut his damned finger off. Teddy was stretching to take down the apron, and today's jeans had a tear that allowed a glimpse of that crease between arse and thigh. He turned and Draco saw blue eyes and bronze hair and realised the brat was dressing for his house.

Teddy took his place at the second bench, his back to Draco, and reached across it for his mortar and pestle. Draco pressed his hard cock against the cupboards and bit back a groan.

This must be what going mad felt like.

 

 **Familiar** Harry/Neville

It had been months since Harry had woken with no memory of who he was. They told him his name and his history. They introduced him to the people in his life, waiting for a flash of recognition.

None of it was familiar.

Now they stopped parading people and places and things. The doctors had accepted he would never be that person called Harry Potter again.

Until he walked in. A memory tickled like a cough at the back of his throat.

"S'ok, Harry. I'm here."

Sun-warmed skin and work-roughened hands. The smell of earth filling his nostrils as he was pressed onto a flowerbed. He didn't know a name. He wasn't sure of their relationship.

But this? This was familiar.

 

 **19 Years Later** Harry/Draco/Snape

Nineteen years ago Severus had stood outside a home in Godric's Hollow. His grief was silent, tempered by the shock of the Dark Lord's demise. He had stepped into the ruins of the house and saw his childhood friend's son in a crib, a scar bright on his forehead.

He had left the house and fled to Malfoy Manor. To spread the word. To ensure his godson was safe. Two infants whose lives were changing in ways they would never truly understand. It wasn’t often that history veered in such a way.

Severus had spent nineteen years protecting them both as best he could. Even when Harry sneered and stepped blindly into harm's way, Severus had stood in the shadows ready to catch him. When Draco had shrugged his hand and help away, Severus had ensured he walked away in one piece. And after the war he'd kept Draco out of jail and made sure Harry stayed whole.

Nineteen years ago.

Today they had turned the tables.

"You need taking care of, Sev." Draco pushed him onto the bed.

"Let us look after you," Harry said as he began to unbutton dark robes.

They were children, he told himself as he gathered strength to push them away. He was old enough to be a father to either of them.

Then one warm mouth met his lips and another wrapped around his cock and he let his doubts bleed away.

Nineteen years later and it was time for his reward.

 

 **Growing Beards** Harry/Draco

 _An outtake from my BB  
So, the boys had facial hair in my Big Bang, but I kind of hand-waved it despite my lovely artists asking me for more detail. But when I saw the beard prompt I decided to go back to Antarctica and look at their beards. No need to have read Long Hours to understand this, just know that they're skiing across Antarctica and sleeping in a tent._

Harry gazed into the small hand mirror that Draco had handed him. He rubbed a hand over his chin, fascinated by the fuzziness there. He'd never grown a beard before.

"I can't believe you're so fascinated by a little facial hair, Potter."

"I can't believe you packed a mirror for your trek across Antarctica."

"I like to trim on occasion."

Draco stepped up behind him and Harry tried to ignore the heat at his back. A slender hand grabbed his own and angled the mirror to the left. Draco rested his chin on Harry's shoulder and peered into the small piece of glass.

"Mine looks better. Yours is all patchy."

"It'll catch up. There's just never been hair there before."

"Are you planning on something Dumbledore-style."

"No. Maybe I'll trim it into a strange shape."

"A question mark would suit. People would be able to tell that you're generally befuddled just by looking at you."

Harry thrust his elbow back and was gratified by the 'oof' as it connected with Draco's stomach.

"I like it," he said, gazing into the mirror again.

"Yes, yes, Potter. You look very manly."

Harry tried to ignore the flutter that comment brought to his gut, but he couldn't avoid the look he caught Draco giving him in the reflection of the mirror.

 

 **Without Touch** Scorpius/?

Scorpius looked up from the bed, hands clasped and resting against the bed.

"You cannot move, do you understand?"

Scorpius gave a slight nod, staring wide-eyed into the eyes of his Master. He wanted to obey with everything in him.

His Master began to move hands over him, sending sparks of awareness through his body. He ignored the slight tickles, the scratch of nails, and concentrated on breathing and staying still.

"Good boy, Scorpius." A thumb rubbed across his lips, followed by a tongue. Scorpius swallowed back his groan.

His Master's hand grasped his cock and a whimper escaped before Scorpius could stop it.

"Shh," his Master breathed, the soft air caressing his too-hot flesh. Then a mouth engulfed him and he was an inferno, steel almost hot enough to melt.

"Good boy." The voice caressed Severus' skin, each word a link in the chain that held him to his Master. "So beautiful. So perfect."

He kept himself rigid and tight, fighting the desperation urge to thrust up.

"Speak to me, beautiful Scorpius. Tell me what you want."

"You, Master. Want you. In me, around me. Want to please you, Master. Want to obey. Please."

"Good boy." The mouth kept it's slow pace on his cock, but the torture had been going on for hours. His orgasm was held back with sheer determination and he was desperate for release.

The mouth moved away and Scorpius bit back his protest. He would do what he was told, no matter what it was.

"Come for me, Scorpius."

Pleasure shot through him and it was his Master's pleasure as well as his own. Their pleasure. The final link that bound them into one.

 

 **Jumping Off a Cliff** Sirius/Severus

Severus stood on the rock, jutting out over the water. He wasn't sure how he came to be here, especially since he'd never done particularly well with heights. While it wasn't his life that flashed before his eyes, the last month certainly did.

There was young Regulus Black graduating a year behind him and desperate for a holiday away from the stifling love of his mother. She wanted him to have a companion and Severus had found he couldn't say no, especially with the opportunity to pick Thessalonikian Turtleweed fresh from the Grecian seaside.

There was Severus Black, the bane of his existence, waiting in the shadows by the Black holiday home. It was all planned, apparently; an opportunity to for the brothers to spend some time together for the first time in three years. Regulus had been forbidden to speak to his brother on pain of disinheritance.

There was Severus, uncomfortable in the house with his schoolyard bully also in residence. He spent his time foraging for ingredients, a large black stray padding along with him. Somehow the dog became company and he found himself chatting to it, breaking the habit of silence formed over a lifetime.

Then came an apology. A forehead resting against his own as Sirius Black admitted he was a total berk, but that the Shack thing was completely idiotic and he should have been sent down for it. A thumb brushing across his fingers as Sirius Black said thank you for keeping the secret; that Remus didn't deserve to be punished for Sirius' idiocy. Then there was that confession, the reason why Sirius tormented him, followed by a shy kiss.

Severus stood looking down at the water. Regulus Black was down there – his best friend for years. So was Sirius, a man who wanted so much more than friendship. In the water was his future, and for the first time ever Severus wanted to see where it lead.

He leaped.

 

 **Follow The White Rabbit** Gen, feat. Harry and Draco

When Harry was small he liked to steal books from his cousin. Dudley didn't like to read, so any book that he received as a gift ended up in the second bedroom, usually with crayon scrawled all over it and some pages torn out. Harry tried to rescue them before they suffered this indignity, though sometimes he couldn't. He knew it was silly to have feelings for the books, to think that they're like him in a way, but he couldn't help but see the torn pages as like the bruises he received from Dudley and his gang.

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland was one he couldn't save. When he finally managed to sneak it out of the second bedroom after he dusted the broken toys the beautiful pictures were obscured by orange and green scribble and a number of pages were torn. He hoped that none were missing.

When he got a moment he sat in his cupboard and pored over the book. It was the sort of story his relatives would hate – talking animals, shrinking humans and a never-ending teatime. Perhaps that's why he treasured it for so many years, hiding it under his pillow and drawing it out whenever life got too hard.

On his eleventh birthday Harry discovered that the world down the rabbit hole really did exist. There was a giant man, broomsticks to ride and owls that delivered your mail when you asked. This was wonderland and it was even better than he imagined.

There were even special clothes to wear and he had to be fitted. A boy with white-blond hair stood beside him, a pointy face and big grey eyes.

He looked around, as if worried someone would hear him, then leaned close to whisper into Harry's ear. "It's going to be great, Hogwarts." He flashed a grin. "I can't wait to get away from home."

"Me either," Harry replied.

"My father wants me to be in Slytherin, but I'm hoping for Ravenclaw. What about you?"

Harry shrugged. He had no idea what the boy was talking about.

"Father will be here soon, I think." The boy drew a watch from his pocket and clicked it open. "This fitting has made me late."

Late, Harry thought, suddenly seeing. This boy was the white rabbit. Harry determined that this boy would be his guide through Wonderland.

 

 **Ignore Me**  
Moody knew that Potter hated the protection he was getting. Voldemort was dead and he was meant to be free. But there were still Death Eaters out for blood and Potter's bloody fan club was just as dangerous. So Moody had been assigned to protect the boy and he was taking it seriously.

Potter was not taking it seriously. That's why it was Moody on bodyguard duty, since he could see through invisibility cloaks and disillusionment charms and even through walls. He'd taken to following the brat around and putting a hand on his shoulder every time he tried to slip out into London.

Potter, on the other hand, had taken to ignoring Moody with the same determination that he used when hunting down horcruxes. His skill in ignoring was so great that the boy could have built a career in it.

If there was anything that made Moody pay closer attention it was being ignored. Harry was so busy ignoring he never even realised that Moody watched him as he slept. Peeked through the door as he showered. Set his eye in the canopy of the bed so he could see when the Boy Who Lived wrapped a slender hand around his cock and shuddered in pleasure.

Yes, Alastor Moody did his best work when he was being ignored. Potter didn't even realise when he was drawing closer.

 

 **Can't Help Myself** Harry/Draco

This was a habit he had to break, Harry knew. He told himself that this was the last time. He'd go cold turkey after this.

Draco's mouth was on that spot where his neck turned into shoulder. Harry shuddered, pulling the warm body closer and pushing down the sleep pants that Draco wore.

"Fuck, Harry," Draco gasped when Harry wrapped a hand around that long cock. Harry let the voice soak into his skin, determined to enjoy it since this would be the last time.

"Yes, Draco," he breathed. "Fuck me."

Draco knelt as he pulled the pants off Harry's legs. Then a wet heat engulfed his cock and Harry barely noticed the arm nudging his legs wider. His head thudded against the stone wall as a slick finger entered his arse and he didn't know which way to thrust to get more.

He dragged at Draco's shoulders; he wanted to draw this out but he felt hot and desperate and he could go slow once Draco was inside him.

Seconds later his legs were wrapped around Draco's waist and Draco's weight was keeping him pressed tight against the wall. Then Draco was easing into him and neither of them were breathing as they concentrated on exquisite sensation.

"Move," Harry demanded, and he thanked Merlin that his was an area where Draco always obeyed.

Draco threaded one hand in his hair, protecting his head from the hard wall, even as the other slid under his arse helping to keep him up. It was hard and steady and Harry's cock was nestled between them enjoying each second of the delicious friction that was building deep inside.

"You love it, don't you, Harry?" Draco was murmuring. "Love that arse being full. Love being pressed against a wall like some cheap slut. Love the bruises I leave."

Harry clawed at Draco's back, wordlessly urging him on, desperate for release. Draco moved his hands and long fingers gripped Harry's arse tightly. Harry's hips tilted under Draco's grasp and suddenly it was there and Harry didn't recognise the wail that escaped his throat.

Teeth sank into his shoulder and Harry felt Draco's shudder in every pore of his body.

They stayed like that, taking long gulps of air and letting their breath mingle.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" Draco asked.

"I can't help myself," Harry replied.

"Same time tomorrow?"

"Of course."


End file.
